


Ghosts

by TeethHoarder



Category: Ghosts (TV 2019), Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: AU, Angst, Comedy, Crossovers & Fandom Fusions, Death, Denial of Feelings, F/M, Ghosts, Ghosts AU, Haunting, Love/Hate, M/M, More Relationships to be added, More characters to be added, More tags to be added, Multichapter, idk if this counts as major character death when they're all already dead
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-06-07
Updated: 2019-09-27
Packaged: 2020-04-12 07:18:08
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 9,447
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19127230
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TeethHoarder/pseuds/TeethHoarder
Summary: Arthur has inherited a house, but it's not without it's inhabitants. other than a very annoying pigeon that keeps sneaking in, comes a variety of ghosts that aren't happy with him here.-An AU from my ask blog that got too much for just the blog. A crossover with the BBC show Ghosts. Many things will be similar to the show with some differences. Imagine the show as a little circle, and then put a MASSIVE circle around it and that's my AU. I personally apologise to Matthew Baynton for taking this and running so far away.anyway, slight warning for depressing scenes and descriptions of death. I will put warnings in the beginnings of the chapters they are most prominent in. but otherwise this is quite light hearted and fun.





	1. Chapter 1

Button house was quiet, leaves blown in from various broken windows and its general state of disrepair, left it looking practically abandoned. 

The previous owner, one of the last of the Button family, had passed away not a week prior. She was an old woman, having lived alone, she could not keep it up herself. And there was something to say for the state of the Button’s finances. She had lived in that house since the early 2000s when the politician she had rented it out to had died in more than unfortunate circumstances. 

She didn’t stay after her death – that is to say, she had no children nor husband, nor distant relative to take on the house for her. Except perhaps, one pushed to one side. One who had no idea until the Thursday after she died that he was in any way related to her. 

Arthur pushed open the large wood doors of the rundown estate, leather jacket fighting off the breeze, a single case in one hand, and his guitar case on his back. Leaves crunched under his feet and lay in pieces on the worn rug that stretched itself down the long hall and up the stairs. He looked around, interest gleaming in his eyes and an excited smile tugging at his lips. 

“What do you think, Prince?” He asked aloud, brushing a hand over the dusty side table. The cat that followed him in, a pale coloured Scottish fold, was struggling with a leaf on his paw. This was all Arthur had to his name. Years of crashing on friend’s sofas, and all he had to show for it was the clothes on his back and a cat that had just started following him one day. 

He set down his case and guitar and decided to explore, wandering through the various rooms downstairs; the kitchen, the dinging room, the library. Though there was so much more to it, and so much space. Once upstairs, he looked out of a window onto the vast garden. Somewhat overgrown, it still looked a sight. He’d never had a garden before. 

Reaching down, he picked up the cat and held him close, at first there were protests, but Prince settled into the hug with a purr. Arthur turned so they could both see through the window, smile widening, “Yeah… This is nice, huh? This is home.” 

“Though…” He looked up at the cracks in the ceiling, feeling the floors creak and almost buckle beneath him, “It’s a bit of a state. But, when we start up the hotel, that’ll all be fixed!” 

As he walked out of the room to continue his exploration, several voices piped up, unheard by human ears. 

“Hotel?!” A woman sounded, arms crossed over her dress, one slightly more crooked than the other,  
“Well he is your family I suppose.” An American accent joined,  
“No family of mine is going to turn this house into a hotel.”  
“Well there’s only one thing for it.” A man in a regency waistcoat stepped up behind them, brushing at the blood stain a bullet had left, “What’s the plan, Captain?” 

A large man in a uniform looked behind him to the doorway the new owner of this house had just left through, his serious face twitching with distain, “A plan…” he hummed, sucking on his bottom lip, “Well. This calls for a meeting. Downstairs parlour room, 1500 hours.”  
“When’s that…?” The American muttered to the man next to him. 

A Clock chimed loudly in the upstairs hall, three obnoxious strikes sounded through the walls of the house.  
“That’ll be right now.” Said the man in the waistcoat. And one by one, each person went on their way down the stairs, taking their own routes through walls and floors, gathering in the far more furnished parlour room. 

7 people found each other there, placing themselves on the sofa with one stood in front of them, counting off who was here to make sure. He was precise and diligent, the Captain. Every occupant he shared this house with had been under his command since he arrived – or, since he died. 

This group of 7 weren’t all together there in the sense that one might think. Each wore a different fashion, each had their own set of personal rules and etiquette that was important to them. Because they too were dead, and some much longer than he. 

The oldest ghost that spent her time here was Anya. A very tall woman with silvery blonde hair, and an often vacant expression on her soot covered face. Though quiet, when she opened her mouth, what came out really did reveal her status in her time. 

Therese was a young girl with dark skin and an annoying enthusiasm. She was only 16 at the time of her death, even so she remained as excitable as the day she was born. Her pink dress covered in ribbons and frills and rococo hair made her look older, but her personality was a different story. 

Then Francis, a self proclaimed poet and regency genius. However, he was more annoying and pompous as anything. Dramatic flair in everything he did and a complete flirt. Usually he was found in the library, waiting for someone to walk in so he could lament. 

Alice was perhaps the worst. One of the original Button family and had the worst habit of screaming out of the east wing window every night at the same time. She denied it of course. Adamant on her history, an educated Edwardian lady. She didn’t much like the men, and Captain didn’t much like her. 

He himself was a proud man from the second of the world wars, stationed at the house with his troop. The circumstances of his death were unimportant, no one had seen him die and that was most certainly for the best. But he was their organiser now. 

After him came Alfred, an American who came to England to become a scout leader – an archery master he called himself, though the arrow sticking out of his neck said something different. He didn’t like to mention it all too much – but he was forgiving, and aggravatingly chipper. But he was good at making people listen, and that was a trait that Captain appreciated. 

And after _him_ was Ivan. A politician with the filthiest mind here – likely not helped by the fact he’d died with his trousers down. He was still tolerable, and sometimes the only intelligent conversation available. There were certain things the Captain had allowed himself to confide in Ivan with, things he wouldn’t dare repeat. 

But Ivan was the most recent ghost. And with him, the role call was complete. 

“Good. Everyone’s here.” The Captain cleared his throat, standing straight in front of the expecting crowd. They looked at him with bored expressions that suggested they had listened to him far too many times to truly care what he had to say, but old habits die hard, and by now they had been dead far too long to care. 

“This new occupant of ours is planning on making our house into a hotel.”  
Anya raised her hand,  
“Yes, Anya?” Captain sighed with exasperation, tucking the pointer stick he held under his arm,  
“What’s a hotel?” She blinked,  
“A hotel is a place where people can stay!” Alfred replied, keeping his words simple, “Sometimes travellers who are taking a long journey need to stop somewhere on their way to rest. Or they’ll stay here and return home for a holiday.”  
“Yes something like that.” Captain nodded, not leaving space for more of the woman’s questions, “People. Loud, intrusive, and probably doing unspeakable things.”  
“Like devil worship.”  
“Yes, Anya. Probably. The point is, we don’t want people here. God knows the things they’ll get up to on the surfaces.”  
“Right then.” Ivan clapped, hauling himself up from the sofa to stand next to the Captain, a hand on his shoulder, “There’s only one thing for it.” He paused, looking over the confused group of ghosts, “We kill him.” 

The room exploded into chatter; Alice, Captain, and Therese, firmly against killing, multiple reasons but at least they could agree. Ivan, Mary, and Francis had their arguments for it. And among their arguments and disagreements, Alfred stepped between them all to clear his throat, “You know, we could always try… haunting?” 

Everyone went quiet, mulling over the idea as Alfred nodded, “No one gets hurt, he leaves, we continue as normal.”  
“Well I suppose…” Ivan tutted, “Does mean he won’t be here forever.”  
“Then we’re agreed.” Captain crossed his arms, “You can push things over, anyone else have any abilities they would like to share?”  
“Oh! When peoples walks through me, They smell burning!” Anya tried,  
“None of those were plurals but it’s worth a try. If you’re comfortable with that.”  
She nodded, a smile on her face, and the light chatter continued, formulating a plan to scare their new occupant out of their house.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Arthur has an accident, and that accident leads to a lot of irritating symptoms.

“It’s a bit draughty.” Arthur shrugged, beer in hand as he lounged on one of the sofas he had set up. 

A party wasn’t quite what he would call it, more of a very small gathering of friends, here for a drink or two and to crash at the huge place. Plus, it helped it feel less empty for a bit. He was so used to small apartments and arguing neighbours through walls – it really did feel quiet. 

“I think the draught is the least of your problems.” The last of his friends awake laughed lightly, staring into the fire they had set. Kiku was usually someone who would let him sleep on his sofa, probably one of the few who continuously put up with the leeching behaviour. 

“Well yeah.” Arthur laughed in reply, “but hey, it’s comfortable. Once everything gets fixed...”   
“How are you going to do that? You can’t busk your way through taking care of this place.”   
“How bad can it be?”   
“It’s pretty bad.” Kiku raised an eyebrow, “I know you want to make it a hotel and everything, but you’ve got to get it there first. Why not talk to a bank… or your brothers.”   
“Absolutely not.” The other scoffed, throwing back the last of the beer,   
“If you say so…” A sigh, “I’m not helping you through this one.”   
“I don’t expect you to. I want to be responsible for once.”   
“Then be an adult. You can still play, but would a job hurt?” 

He had a point, a job wouldn’t hurt. A job would help in fact. Help with everything that he needed to get done. It was easy to tell without having someone to come and look at the house that it was in dire need of attention, and that was attention he really couldn’t afford. But, somewhere in there was fear and uncertainty. A job was growing up, and growing up was the last thing he wanted to do. 

“I’ll… think about it.” Arthur sighed, getting up from his place off the floor, “I’m gonna have a smoke and then crash…”   
“Okay. Ha, you know, it’s funny. Tonight, I’m sleeping on _your_ sofa.”   
The pair laughed, tired and well meaning before saying their goodnights as Arthur, new proud owner of this stupid big house, disappeared into another room. 

He wasn’t an animal. While an unfortunate amount of his budget went to his nicotine addiction, he would never smoke inside – especially not here. Somehow it just felt wrong. So he struggled for a moment to open a fairly large and stiff window with a cigarette in his mouth before plopping himself down on the edge to light it up. 

Clouds of white smoke spun from the embers and between his teeth, soothing any headache that may have come from overthinking this whole endeavour. As happy as he may be with a house of his own, everything that came with it was soon becoming a chore. How on earth would he be able to keep it up and still pursue his music? The only path he could muster up the strength to continue on. No wonder his family didn’t want anything to do with him. 

His moping was cut short, abruptly with a shock of adrenaline suddenly overtaking his entire body as he grabbed the window sill so as not to lose his balance. The cause of this minor heart attack flapped around the room for a little bit in panic before quickly finding the window once more and swooping out. 

Arthur cursed, leaning out of the window to spot where the pigeon has created its nest. Typical. So if he ever wanted to keep this open to let in a summer breeze, he was at danger of pigeon invasion. 

He had to lean out quite far to look, tempted almost to reach out and swat the nest off of it’s perch on some of the decorative brickwork. Though he wasn’t so cruel, this window would have to stay shut until the birds had flown the nest – literally. 

Ivan walked down the hall, tired and a little bit annoyed that the Captain had ordered they go over the plan several times since he had been woken up by Alice’s screaming in the east wing again. His job right now was to find the clock she followed and push the time back, this way she would scream when everyone was already awake. Tedious and a misuse of his abilities. 

However, as he walked past a doorway, he stopped. Their current occupant leaning so far out of the window, cursing at a bird. An idea struck. They had all agreed the haunting was better than killing, but many of them were older and had no real understanding of the speed in which an ambulance could get here. So he took initiative, creeping across the room as if he would be heard. 

If Arthur died on the grounds, fine, he could accept the blame and carry on. But, if he died in a hospital some miles away, much better. 

With all the strength he could muster into one movement, He pushed against the man’s back, shoving him through the opening. The was a scream, a short one, ended abruptly was the sickening crunch of flesh hitting hard gravel. He may have heard a bone or two snap. How exciting. 

Ivan was about to turn to leave the room, dusting off his hands when someone ran in, going right through him and to the window. He gagged at the intrusive feeling and watched as Arthur’s friend called to him before running out. He dodged so he wouldn’t have to suffer the uncomfortable feeling of being walked through again. 

\--

Dawn had broken, leaving the sky dusty as the sun rose, bathing the ambulances and medics in a dim blue light. The ghosts of the house had gathered at the window, watching it all happen as their new occupant was loaded into the back, his friends planning their leave, the one that found him hopping into the back. 

“We agreed to no killing.” The Captain growled, chest puffed out in threat,   
“I took the opportunity. He’s gone now, isn’t he?”   
“That’s not the point at all. What if he dies here?”  
“He’s in an ambulance, look, they’re driving away!” 

As the two bickered, Alice watched through the window. Though her heart had stopped over 100 years ago now, she could still feel it leap into her chest at the height. She had heard the scream, heard the fall, she gripped her arm tightly as it throbbed, air leaving her. 

“Why would you do that…?” She asked, not turning from her place,   
“I just said! I took the opportunity-“  
“What kind of man pushes some innocent out of a window?!” Her voice grew, silencing everyone in the room as her shoulders shook. She turned slowly, keeping her face as level as she could, but the anger bubbled up and the wind blew strong around her. 

“I don’t… Alice it was for the good of us all. You said you didn’t want him here.”  
“Ivan, stop talking.” Francis attempted, but the politician wasn’t having it,   
“No! I don’t see what she’s so worked up about! I try to do something nice for once and somehow it still blows up in my-“   
“ _I_ was pushed.” Alice spoke in a loud voice, wind whipping around her as if it could touch her, “Did you hear me? _I was pushed!_ And you have the absolute nerve to do the same to someone who never hurt you!” Her voice shook with anger and despair, but her face never cracked, remained strong,   
“I… didn’t know.”   
“Well you do now! You all do now! Alright? If you will excuse me.” Before the strength in her face gave way, Alice swooped out of the room through the nearest wall, hurrying away to somewhere she could be alone. 

Silence had fallen over the group of ghosts that still stood by the window, some dumbfounded, others hanging their heads with their lips sealed tight. 

“Did you all know?” Ivan turned to face the group, looking over the faces for an explanation,   
“Some of us were there.” The poet looked up, trying his best to maintain eye contact,   
“And no one told me? None of you thought to tell me how she _died_?”   
“It’s not our story to tell.” Francis took a step forward, some confidence around him, “And besides, none of us knew you were going to push someone else out of a window.” 

The politician tried to speak, but instead found himself gritting his teeth, fists clenched.   
“I think you should apologise.” Alfred piped up, “Maybe once she’s calmed down. You weren’t to know.”   
“Apologise? Yeah sure, I’ll get on that.” Ivan spoke through his teeth, pushing past the group to storm in the opposite direction. Maybe he could find a nice radio somewhere to calm the swelling anger. 

\--- 

2 weeks had passed since the incident, Arthur lay on his hospital bed, poking at the food he had been given. It wasn’t hospital food at least, Kiku had been so kind as to bring him something with flavour, even if it was just white rice with bonito flakes on it, it was still better than what he’d had here. And easy on his still turning stomach. 

“I got someone to look at the house for you while you’re out.” Kiku spoke, putting down the game controller he had brought with him, “Thought it was the least I could do.”  
“Thanks…” Arthur muttered, “I’m guessing it’s pretty bad.”   
“Yeah. Yeah it’s actually worse than that.”   
“Oh great.”  
“it’s mostly structural. But good news, everyone’s thinking about pitching in.”   
Arthur groaned, laying back on the slightly scratchy pillows, “I’m sorry.”   
“Why are you sorry?”   
“I thought I was doing good with my own place but now I’m in hospital and everyone’s bloody fixing my house for me.”   
“Well not everyone. I tried calling your family…”   
“At least that hasn’t changed.” 

Today was his last day in hospital, after a medically induced coma had put him out of action, the only thing he wanted was a comfortable bed and a cup of tea. The smell of disinfectant and sickness that surrounded the halls was suffocating to say the least, even the dust of that god forsaken house would be better than this. 

“Maybe I should sell it.” He spoke from under his own arm, “Sell it and buy somewhere simple...”   
“That’s not a bad idea, but I thought you liked it.” Kiku tried before biting his lip, “Also I can’t find Prince.”   
“Fucking… cat.”   
“At least stay until you’re better, who knows, you might change your mind.”   
“It’s somewhere to stay I guess.” He was far too tired to argue on this, he just couldn’t wait to get out. 

\---

Francis Always found the open grounds the best place to pick up his muse. Poetry was his art, and no matter what the others said, he was one of the best of his time – despite his lack of recognition mostly due to historical figures that must not be named. Every time he tried his musings around the house, he found it difficult to concentrate with the drabble going on. There was still the fuss of the house’s current owner taking an unfortunate fall, and truth be told, he couldn’t be doing with it clogging up his creative outlet. 

Yes. Out on the lawn at the front of the house, he stepped, moving to his own words. Though he didn’t stumble as much as they did. He would never admit it, but the muse had been growing stale in the past few years… past few hundred years. Not since he was alive, actually. At least Therese appreciated it when he could get whatever he had been working on out to her. She listened in that childlike way, he thought of her as his own. Now if only he could write something with substance, it might impress the others. Not that impressing them was on his mind. 

Thoughts and doubts were distracted – easily as per usual – by the sound of one of those odd horseless carriages rolling onto the gravel path. He turned to watch it – glare at it even. How dare it interrupt his wordless poetry. But out came the one he had been trying to write about, all banged up and bandaged, a cast on his arm. Arthur, was it? He had a friend with him, leading him back towards the house. Watching was hard to put into words. 

And soon, it became far harder. Because Arthur looked up from the ground, his tired green eyes lifting to meet Francis’ own. Surely not. There must be something behind him. But this modern man stopped, a frown passing over his brow. 

“Can I help you?” He asked, confusion and some venom in his voice. 

Francis froze. He would have liked to speak, but his tongue stuck to the roof of his mouth like he’d swallowed an entire bowl of treacle. He looked around, a little bit behind him before back at the young man in front of him. 

Arthur’s friend looked too, but it was far more obvious in his eyes that he was looking through the poet, not at him like _he_ was.   
“Are you alright?” His friend frowned, “Maybe we should get you inside.” 

Arthur turned to his friend, mouth open, ready to point out the weird period drama actor directly in front of them, but the worried expression made him pause and look back. By the time he had, the man was gone. He felt his head throb.   
“Yeah… maybe I should get inside. Weird.” 

 

“What do you mean he spoke to you?” The Captain turned from his chair, stock upright as usual. The others had gathered as well, it was perhaps the first time Alice and Ivan had been in the same room since the house’s new owner took his tumble. 

“He looked directly at me, and he opened his mouth, and words came out.” Francis paced frantically up and down the room, “He _spoke_ to me.” 

“He couldn’t have. No one’s spoken to us for years.” Alice had that deep frown on her face, the one that promised a future eye roll and an unladylike scoff. It was an ugly expression, and Francis wished she would wear it less, and maybe take this situation more seriously. 

“Anya. You’ve been here the longest.” Alfred spoke, his tone somewhat worried and yet bordering on excitement, “Has this happened before?” 

“Hm?” From her place at the window, Anya looked up, as if she had only just caught wind of the situation. “Oh, I don’t think so. Conversing with the dead is devil’s talk.”  
“Well it’s happening _now_ ” The poet urged, “I don’t know how, but he spoke to me and he was quite rude.” 

“This isn’t a bad thing.” The Captain stood, “It gives us a chance at a full frontal attack. If he can indeed see us, then we have a chance of scaring the wits out of him.” 

 

Something about the night was a little more calming, and yet apparently a time for Arthur to avoid windows. It wasn’t, however, a time for him to avoid getting up in the middle of the night to awkwardly shuffle into the bathroom, looking for either some water, or a painkiller strong enough to knock him out for the next 5 hours. Or both. 

While he was there, he took his time. The drowsiness of lack of sleep, clashing with the shooting pains in his arm and neck kept him awake – if only barely – and made a good job of slowing him down to a lazy pace that didn’t care for where he stood. Which was currently in front of a mirror, staring at the bruises on his face. There was something depressing about this image in front of him, but maybe that was really just the lack of sleep talking. Didn’t feel like he’d been sleeping for two weeks. Honestly, he’d quite like that back. 

But instead, he opened the mirror cabinet and grabbed a box of painkillers, breaking two out into his palm and swallowing them down with a handful of water. It wasn’t until he turned the tap off that he was struck with a sudden, ominous feeling. 

It was like he had been suddenly thrown onto the set of every bad horror movie he had ever watched and laughed at. The ones where you’d think you’d do better and the protagonist is an idiot, but in reality you’d act just as stupidly. He knew this. But it certainly didn’t help throw that feeling off. He used to think if he’d ever get haunted by one of those demons, he would probably do something really dumb to ruin the chilling mood. But also he still had a shred of dignity left in him despite the sling and neck brace, and he didn’t really have the energy to pull something stupid out of his ass. 

So instead, he took the cabinet door and slowly started to close it, wincing as it moved before finally working up the courage to quickly shove it closed. Nothing. Of course there was nothing. These things didn’t exist, it was just his overtired and concussed brain still trying to make sense of dark shadows around him and all that. He breathed a sigh of relief and turned to leave. 

What met him shot him back against the wall; there was a person. A whole person. She stood tall, covered in soot and ash with a gold necklace around her neck. Long silver hair tumbled over her shoulders as her head tilted. For a few seconds – silence. And then;  
“Hello.” 

Arthur screamed – not the most manly of screams he could have mustered, but he did take the time to grab for something with his non-bandaged hand and hold it up like a weapon. Not that a toilet brush would do much good. He ran at her with it, and she turned quickly, running through the door he soon smacked into. And then he was on the floor, the room spinning around him. Above him, three heads came into view, one being the woman he had chased. 

“Well then.” A blond one in a green uniform spoke, “He can hear us.”   
“This should make things easier then.” One in a suit muttered. 

And it all went black. 

He woke up again what felt like seconds later with Kiku by his bed, looking worried but on his phone.   
“You’re awake.” He sat up, leaning forward to look at his friend, “Are you okay? Did you fall?”   
“No…” Arthur groaned, “I keep seeing things. People.”   
“oh.”   
“I ran into a door.”  
“Why?”  
“Some… lady ran through it. That’s not the point.” He sighed, moving to sit up properly in bed, “I think I need to go back to the hospital.”   
Kiku waited a moment, silence as he thought, “I’ll go get my keys.” With this, he stood up and left the room. 

Arthur gently moved himself back down, not wanting to jostle his head any further. This would be a long road to recovery, a long and winding one. One that was already making him dizzy just thinking about. Maybe he would ask the doctor to be put into another coma until everything sorts itself out and he can wake up pretending none of this happened. If only life were that simple to sleep away his problems. 

 

“We will take turns.” The captain ordered as he walked Alfred and Francis up the hall towards the room their target sat in, “I’ll go first, I’m not one to take up the rear.”  
“Sure you’re not. Are you sure this is the best idea?”   
“Of course I’m sure.”  
“What I think Francis means is, he’s a little sensitive after the fall last night, maybe give him a bit of time-“  
The Captain held out the brown rod in his hands to stop Alfred in his tracks, “The sooner he’s gone the better. Now, you wait here.” And off he marched, straight backed and prepared. 

He reached the bedroom and stopped turning to the closed door with his heels together before ducking in. 

Arthur jumped and turned his head away, “Oh god it’s you.”   
“I know you can hear me, so listen up.” Ludwig began, keeping his voice stern yet threatening, “You are trespassing on this property and neither me nor my fellow associates will stand for it.”   
The man in bed covered his ears, “Nope. You’re not real.”   
“I am very real and most certainly don’t welcome you here.” He continued to prattle on, leaving Arthur very little choice. 

He picked up the remote control, a TV Kiku had set up some time during the two weeks his friend was out cold stood by the end of the bed. He turned it on and held the volume button until it was all he could hear.   
“What the hell is that?” The soldier beside him frowned, distracted from his war declaration speech by the pictures that moved on screen. 

He’d seen movies before, he wasn’t stupid. He’d also seen a television – not that they were all too popular, nor comparable to the convenience of a simple radio. But what caught his eye was _what_ he was seeing. Tanks. Rows and rows of tanks all marching forward, and the sounds of the narrator describing Nazi endeavours. He moved to it, fixated on the information. 

This distraction gave Arthur enough time to slip out of bed and sneak out of the room, unseen by the Captain. Trust him really, to hallucinate the tallest, prettiest, and most uptight man he could possibly think of. He had a type, and even his damaged brain could tell apparently. 

As he closed the door and turned, another face met him, pressing him against the door as he jumped for what felt like the millionth time. This face, however, was much more friendly and came with an American accent.   
“Hello! I didn’t mean to scare you. I’m Alfred, scout master. I’d like to personally welcome you to Button house.”  
“Absolutely not.” Arthur breathed, pressing ahead. They weren’t real, so walking through this scout felt like his most logical way out. 

Alfred gagged as he was passed through, taking a moment to shudder, “I will never get used to that. Straight to the tour?” After collecting himself, he jogged to keep up with the man making a speedy exit towards the stairs, “These are the east wing stairs, they lead down to-“  
“You’re not real.”   
“…Well I am. Just not alive.”   
“Nope. No you’re not.”  
“Well you’re talking to me.” He frowned, still trying to catch up,   
“No I’m not.”  
“You are. You’re replying”   
“Nope.” 

As the man speed walked towards the kitchens, Alfred stopped with a sigh. Today wasn’t his day, maybe he could make more of an impact with a little more planning; not everything gets done on the fly after all. 

“My turn.” Francis pushed past, straightening his waistcoat,   
“Captain said it’s Anya’s turn next, sorry.”   
The tall woman mentioned shoved the Frenchman aside sharply. With a confident smile on her face she strided over, following the young man with his hands over his ears, and began chanting, “ _Get out get out get out get out._ ”  
Arthur only pressed his hands further against his ears and kept his head down. Unfortunately, not noticing the second woman he walked through. She shuddered unpleasantly before shaking her head, and looking angrily after him.  
“How ungentlemanly!” Alice cried in outrage, “Walking through a lady like that, you should be disappointed in yourself. You’re no blood of mine!” 

“Oh?” A mans voice this time, following him beside the women, “I’m glad I caught you, about the whole window thing. I really think you should consider the possibility that we are both equally responsible. I mean, who leans out of a window that far?” 

Arthur began to run through this maze of a house, calling for Kiku wherever the hell he was. The people just followed him, more joining him as he went. Eventually his pulled open a door randomly and slam it in their faces. It was a closet as it turns out – one he had already put some of his coats in. but they didn’t follow him, and for a little while he could breathe. 

Not for long. 

A chilling giggle sounded from beside him, and he felt as though someone was holding onto his arm. Stiffly, he turned his head to look, finding the smiling face of a young woman with decorative hair and bright eyes.   
“Can we play a game together?” 

He screamed and ran back out, calling for his friend again as he was faced with the group of chattering people he had never seen before. He looked frantically, seeing Kiku running towards him, followed by the soldier from before, talking at him for turning the TV off, and two more people.   
“Get in the fucking car.” He ordered, already running to the entrance hall and out the door.   
His friend looked very worried, but followed on, jogging to catch up. 

The car unlocked, and Arthur got in the passenger’s seat as soon as he could, beeping the horn both to drown out the noise and hurry his friend along. Kiku did up his seatbealt and looked over, “What’s going on?”  
“They’re all here.” Arthur sunk into his seat as all of the people following him joined in surrounding the car, “These people I’m seeing. There’s more of them. Can you just drive please?”  
“Yeah, yeah I’m driving.” His friend fumbled with the keys to start the ignition, soon setting off down the drive. 

The people followed to the end of the drive, and stopped. All waiting at the boarders of the property. 

Arthur sighed in some relief; at least they weren’t following him now. 

“Who are these people?” Kiku asked as he drove, that worried expression only growing,   
“There’s a lady covered in ash, some period drama guy, a scout with an arrow in his neck, one with no trousers, a soldier-“  
“A soldier?” That worry was replaced with amusement, “Is he cute?”   
Arthur looked at him, a deadpan expression on his face, “Not the time.”   
“Not at all…” 

The drive to the hospital had been blissfully quiet, so much that Arthur had almost fallen asleep, but he entered that hospital and felt the most devastating wall of dread, dropping on him like a curtain before the final act. A&E was not a happy place. Not normally, sure, but this time felt entirely worse. It was full of people. These people were not like the waiting injured in the office, they were much like those back in the house – dead. And very jarringly clear to be. He sat down and stared at the floor, not daring make eye contact with any of the bloody and bent out of shape victims of accidents and otherwise. 

As Kiku jogged up to the front desk, explaining that he had called before hand to try get to a specific doctor, Arthur sat, lip sucked in between his teeth. A wet slapping noise started towards him, slow and laboured. It stopped right by his ear, replaced by wheezing breath. He watched the floor, unblinking in a desperate attempt to divert attention from the blood beginning to pool at his feet from the direction of the breathing. 

He had to look away. So he looked straight up and ahead, looking at the girl sitting in front of him. He must have looked desperate, in pain, because she gave him a confused look, then a curious one. He bounced his knee, offering a weak smile to distract him. Then it was Arthur’s turn to look curious. Something in her eyes, something knowing. He almost thought she was one of them before Kiku came back over, taking his friend’s arm.   
“Sorry miss, he’s not feeling his best.”   
“That’s alright.” She replied before looking back to the man who’d stared at her, “He looks like he’s seen a ghost.” 

He was dragged away before he could say anything – even a joke that he probably had. Not that he could do anything at the time but gape like a fish fresh from the water – he was about as wet as one from the cold sweats this experience had given him. But soon, he found himself sat in a cubicle, curtains drawn and instructed to wait for a doctor. 

“Well, that’s the fastest I think anyone’s been brought into A&E.” he muttered when his dry throat would allow.   
“They were expecting you.” Kiku didn’t sit, instead getting a cup of water from the tap and handing it to his friend, “Doesn’t matter. You’re here.”   
“Yeah…” He took the water, gulping it down like he hadn’t drunk anything in weeks. 

They waited, and as they did he would watch through a gap in the curtain. The man opposite him wasn’t conscious, but every now and then he would seize up, sometimes small, sometimes violent, and when he did, beside the two girls that would cry and call for a doctor, he would appear. A flickering and unsteady image, reaching out for the girls with tears in his eyes and desperation on his face. Doctors would come and stabilise him, and the image would vanish. The second time this happened, Arthur made eye contact with the man. And the third time, the man used his flickering form to make towards him. 

Unlike in the waiting room, something around here wasn’t scaring him. There was an air here that he wasn’t trying to hurt Arthur, his voice couldn’t reach him as he gasped, struggling against the streams that connected him to his body. The doctors came, this time they closed the curtains and the man began pulling back. 

Before Arthur could look to see if he made it once again back into his body, a figure stepped in, closing their curtains fully, and somehow he was at a loss for words. 

It was a long session there, talking, brain scans, tests. All came back just as fine as before, all giving him the all clear. He was told these hallucinations should fade soon, there wasn’t much they could do about them with the tests as they were – his best choice was to ignore them to the best of his ability and come back if they became worrying or if he was showing physical symptoms. He couldn’t concentrate the whole time – not because his brain felt fuzzy or anything, it felt clear as day. But he couldn’t stop thinking about that man, and so he made a point to head back that same way. 

Relief overcame him as he saw the man, standing in his hospital gown next to someone. He practically glowed, looking much better than he had. It had been a couple of hours at least by then, no wonder. The woman he talked to was the same as the one he had seen before in the waiting room. She didn’t make eye contact but she listened and nodded, the faintest of smiles on her lips. And she parted from him, walking past Arthur to step behind a curtain. He watched her go, for a split second seeing a reality. 

The two girls sat down, eyes red rimmed, the younger of the two staring into her lap, tears still falling. And in the bed the man laid, his last breath long since taken, and the woman crouched and began to relay his message. 

Another quiet drive. This time though, full of thought. What he saw, what she did, he slouched in his seat and stared out of the window to make some sense of it. And it really did make sense. 

The house came into view again, and now, Arthur had a newfound confidence that bubbled up with anger as the ghosts that had haunted him for the past two days hurried out to meet him at the drive. 

“Are you Alright, Arthur?” Kiku frowned as his friend got out of the car, slamming the door shut and facing his tormentors. 

“Fine!” The Englishman shouted, both to his friend and the group who had stopped rather abruptly in front of him, not used to this kind of confrontation. “I see you! I see all fuck knows how many of you. There, I acknowledge that you’re real.”  
“Arthur…?”   
He held up a hand to hush his concerned friend, “Now, what the _hell_ do you want from me? Especially _you_ Captain Sing-a-long.” 

After the initial shock, the Captain straightened out, chest puffed as he cleared his throat, “Alright. I’ll tell you what we want. We want you out of this house.”   
“Well that’s too bad, you’re stuck with me because I have literally no where else to stay.”   
“I’m googling emotional breakdown…” Kiku tried to interrupt but was hushed again,   
“I’m not staying on sofas anymore, so we’re just going to have to live with each other, or whatever it is you do. So, any other bright ideas?”   
The Captain’s mouth opened and closed as he struggled to think of the words, looking around to the others expectantly until he stepped up, voice a little more hushed, “I personally wouldn’t mind the large screen to play those films. Once a week. For at least an hour.”   
“Done.” Arthur looked over to the others, eyes scanning, “Who else has any requests?”   
The poet stepped forward, “Kill yourself and be with me for an eternity.”   
“…No.”   
“It was worth a try.” 

“Well I think you have a lot to learn about how a gentleman acts.” Alice straightened her back,  
“cool, you can teach me.” He waved her off, turning to the scout, “What about you? You look like you’re bursting for attention.”  
“I just wanted to say hello!”  
“….Hello?”  
“Hi!” He grinned, “I’m good.” 

“I believe it’s my turn.” Ivan cleared his throat, “I think we can both accept responsibility for that window incident-“  
“Aren’t you that politician that died in a sex scandal?”  
“…I’m sorry?”  
“You are! Well that explains the pants.” Arthur shoved his free hand in his pocket, “Right. Let’s go inside, you can all tell me more later but I’ve had a really long day.” 

“Arthur.” Kiku’s voice was stern as he grabbed his friend’s arm, “You’re not okay. We should go back.”   
“Kiku please… trust me. I saw in the hospital. That lady saw what I saw, she talked to them too. I can’t prove it to you, but you saw those tests.”   
With some serious consideration, Kiku let go of his arm, “Okay… for now. Until then just… think up some proof.” 

And inside they went, all to think up their future. One Arthur really wished wasn’t happening, but for now, he would tolerate it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry I left this so long I lost motivation for it for a while? also not sure why I didn't have the accident happen in the first chapter, I think it was a lot still with all of the ghosts fighting and really it was a chapter describing the opening comic of my ask blog event. which was so long ago I'm so sorry I haven't had time. 
> 
> I now have a very solid plan of how this fic will go and I'm still very excited to share it's story with all of you! i'm sorry it took so long but here's to the latest update! it's a bit of a long one.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Arthur finds a love for gardening, the Captain is annoyed, and Ivan still has his trousers down. just a little input on what daily life is like here.

Living in a house full of ghosts had turned out to be not all that awful, but still incredibly annoying. You couldn’t shower without someone popping their head through the wall. Arthur had taken to showering in swimming trunks – which was unfashionable at best. 

“How many times?” He sighed as he pulled the curtain back from washing his hair, “I can hear you.”   
“You’re no fun.” Francis sat on the toilet, next to him, Anya on the floor, pleasant smile on her face as usual.   
“I’m trying to get clean, can I not have peace for 10 minutes?”   
“You’ve been in there for 20.”   
“Because _someone_ is sitting outside trying to get a peak.”   
“Oh fine, it’s almost time for Captain’s program anyway.” 

With a shower mostly successful if not for the interruptions, Arthur – now dressed – made his way to the TV, finding the Captain already sat watching it, waiting, as if if he stared at it long enough, it might turn on. Usually, behind him there would be one or two of the others. Ivan was particularly interested in watching with them and sometimes Therese would sit by just to watch the pictures. 

Arthur was tired. He had mostly healed by now but headaches still settled behind his eyes at night, along with the dull ache in his shoulder. So he sat next to the Captain, took the remote, and switched on to the usual program. A lengthy documentary on Nazi war strategies. They had burned through more than a quarter of the way through the box set, leaving plenty of time to keep the usually loud and uptight Captain settled. If he was to keep this up his whole life, Arthur was going to have to find more documentaries and movies to state this curiosity. 

He sat back in his chair, barely paying attention to the boring details, “You know the war is over, right?”  
“What?” The Captain didn’t move his eyes from the screen, keeping his back straight, “Yes, I know.”   
“Why do you still watch this crap then?”   
There was no answer. It seemed the conversation wasn’t important enough to keep up. So Arthur changed the subject slightly, “You know, I’ve talked to the others a little, about themselves. But I can never get hold of you.”   
Silence, again. Something bolder might be needed. 

“You have an accent.”  
“I’m sorry?” The Captain frowned, tearing his eyes away to glance over,   
“Well yeah. British uniform... German accent. Bit odd.”  
He looked back to the screen, “My family came from Germany after the great war.”  
“Oh! That explains it then.” Arthur nodded, “So you… fought in the British army. That’s cool. I mean, it’s not. War is pretty shitty. Y’know all those people… dying..” he petered off as he felt a cold stare being sent his way. Enough to bring shivers up his spine. So he sat up, clearing his throat.

“I don’t think I’ve actually caught your name?”   
A pause, one that seemed to drag out in hesitance and irritation, “Ludwig.” The Captain muttered, “My name is Ludwig.”   
“Oh that’s nice! Very uh.. German.”  
“Stop talking.”  
“Sorry.”  
“I’m trying to watch this.”  
“Gotcha.” Arthur winced at his own words, but he felt just that little bit closer. If he knew more about the ghosts here, he might be able to get along with them. That is if he could get the Captain – Ludwig, away from the TV to talk. 

When the episode ended, he was quick to leave, before Arthur could even ask him about if he liked it, what he was thinking about when he watched it. It was hard to catch up with someone when they could walk through walls. As he was putting everything away and ready for the next day, a voice behind him made him jump, 

“Very smooth. You get a lot of ladies talking like that?” Ivan appeared through the door. As he entered, the homeowner turned around again,   
“God’s sake. I can’t have a normal conversation with you.”  
“Don’t be intimidated, I promise it’s not for you.”  
“Oh my god.”   
“Be a bit more polite, I’m the one who died like this.”   
“Just… step behind the bed please? I don’t need to see this.” When he was sure the politician had covered himself, Arthur turned pinching the bridge of his nose as a headache promised to ruin his day, “You were saying?”   
“I was saying, do you get any girls talking like that?”  
“Like what?”   
“Like you talk to Captain – I can see this joke is lost on you. You’ve been getting very interested in everyone’s personal lives lately, have you forgotten we don’t want you here?” 

Arthur sighed, no he hadn’t forgotten. While some were welcoming and excited to talk to him, others were cold to him.   
“I’ve been thinking, actually.” He reached up to touch his shoulder, feeling the slow fade of his painkillers, “I don’t want to make this place a hotel.”  
“Oh? That’s good. Looking for new properties then?”   
“No. Actually, I’m thinking it could be a museum.”   
Ivan’s eyebrow raised in that cocky way it did, “A museum? Of what?”  
“Of all of you. Don’t you want your stories told?”   
The way it had been said seemed to waver the politician, he considered it with brow furrowed. With no answer, Arthur continued, “You’ve all got interesting stories, but no one’s heard them because no one can hear you. Sure, everyone knows you died with your trousers down – it’s a little hard to forget actually.”  
“Keep talking.”  
“But don’t you want your side out? Away from tabloids? I heard the girl involved went into hiding because of it. And Alice, she’s clearly upset about something to do with her husband. Wouldn’t it be nice for everyone to hear the truth?” 

The concept was pondered for a little while before Ivan stepped out from his place, leaving the man he approached to look anywhere but at him. He stopped when he was close, the feeling was unlike anything. Feeling the energy of a person next to you, smelling their sweat but not hearing them breathe, something was missing. When he finally managed to look into the politician’s eyes, he could see they were sunken, see the blue tint to his skin, the bruises on his neck. It was unsettling, terrifying, and yet a smile was planted on that face. 

“When did you get so smart?”   
“Maybe when you pushed me out of a window.”   
“A museum…” Ivan hummed, turning to exit the room, “I’ll plant the idea. Perhaps the others would be a little more open to it.” 

\---

With all that happened in this house, Arthur often found himself in the gardens. It was such an old man thing to do, but he was finding such a pure joy in clearing the garden and watering the now growing plants. And he’d only done about a third of the huge garden. He had uncovered a beautiful secret garden area with a stunning gazebo in the centre. And now he’d planted roses. This would be something he could love. If the ghost of a specific scout hadn’t jogged out to meet him as he was coming out from his work. 

“There has been a vote to let you join in the daily meeting.” Alfred saluted,   
“You lot have meetings?”   
“Yep! We’ve decided to let you in on this one. Just this one I think.”   
“Oh, cheers.” Arthur rolled his eyes, not all too thrilled to find he had been cut out of some daily routine, but he was still so new. So, begrudgingly, he followed the peppy American scout towards the house again. 

As he entered, he was taken to the drawing room where all the ghosts of the house had gathered, and were now watching him enter the room.   
“hey… everyone.” He tried, now alone at the door as Alfred moved back to his place stood by the Captain. Said Captain didn’t even wave, just huffing and turning back to the others, “Now that Ivan’s happy, we can carry on.”   
“I’m interested in this idea too.” Anya piped up, sat in the centre of the sofa, “I don’t knows what it means.”   
“A museum like thing.” Ivan, who sat on the arm of the sofa explained, “people tour the house and learn about us.”   
“Pray tell why that would be a good idea?” Alice had stood behind the sofa, now looking her distant relative up and down, “Have people exploring our home, lord knows what they’ll get up to.”   
“I think it’s brilliant. Get all of our stories told.”   
That smile Ivan held appeared again, and it bristled even the Captain, even though others were unaffected, quiet, waiting for a response. 

“I thought it’d be nice.” Arthur stepped forward, noting the Captain hadn’t said a word since he entered, other than dismissing his presence, “You’re all here for a reason, you’ve all got history. It’d be like one of those National Trust places, and best part is no one will be telling your story for you. Your words, your truths.” 

“I want no part of it.” The Captain finally spoke, “If you all want these _stories_ told, then have it. But leave me out of it.”   
“But everyone’s got an interest for the war.” As soon as he said it, he knew he’d over stepped, and he was about to apologise in the silence, before the Captain turned on his heel, briefly looking into Arthur’s eyes with the cold blue – a cold, dull blue. With that, he left again. 

“I’m sorry.” Arthur turned to the others, “That was… uncalled for.”   
“He’s always been touchy.” Ivan shrugged as he stood, “But if we’re all in agreement, I think we can move forward with this museum idea.”  
“Be a little more sensitive, Ivan.” Francis scolded, standing to brush down his waistcoat,   
“pft. Sensitive.” The politician scoffed, “poet’s words.”   
“I’m all for this idea, I wouldn’t turn down an opportunity to get to know you, Arthur. I can only hope we come to an understanding.”   
“I’m not dating a ghost.”   
“Never say never.” 

\--- 

The Library. This was something of a safe haven, somewhere away from everything, where he could go away from the others. A museum, how ridiculous. Insulting even. The Captain stood on the patterned rug, staring down at his feet with an intensity that might light the carpet on fire if he tried hard enough. Not that he had such an ability, if he did, it would be far more useful. 

“You’re in here again.” Francis’ voice sounded from somewhere around him, that annoying habit of letting his voice travel in a room, no way of knowing where he was. But the Captain was far too used to it to care, he simply looked up from the carpet,   
“It is the only room that is rarely used. I come here for quiet.”  
“That’s funny, so do I.” the poet stepped in from the right, lounging on the sofa.   
“You died here.” The Captain looked to him, eyes grazing over the bullet wound on the Frenchman’s side, “I’m sorry for intruding.”   
“It’s fine. I’m not overly attached to it. But it was my favourite room when I was alive, so it’s quite ironic that I died here.”   
“Quite…” 

It was very quiet as they both occupied the room in the way they did so differently. Quieter to those who couldn’t see them, that would never know they’re there.

“It’s okay that you wouldn’t want to share your story, Captain.”   
“I know.”   
“He didn’t mean to hurt you.”  
“I’m not hurt. Of course people are interested in war.”  
“Not him.”   
If his heart still beat, it would have stopped. Lights around them began to flicker as he turned to the poet, “Don’t.” not in his safe space, anywhere but here.   
The Frenchman put his hands up, “I won’t. When you’re ready, Captain.” He sat up, sighing in that delicate way he could, how aggravating when he thought he was so right about something.

“I’m going to muse around the garden. Don’t spend too long in here, I’d like some rest tonight.” And he swung up, striding out of the room like he owned the place. Which at one point he probably did. It didn’t matter. They were all dead, this house no longer belonged to them. Not now, anyway. Not with the only one with a beating heart around. 

The Captain stood there for a little while longer, straight and tightly held until he looked down to his feet.   
“I’ll be back.” He muttered to the floorboards, “I have errands to attend to…”   
With that, he turned on his heel and marched back through the door, mind focused on his next move. Whatever that would be, he’d think of something.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one is really short. I started it a while ago and completely forgot where I was taking it so I've been scratching my head for weeks. it's one of those that you can't really add to? so it's short, but i'm pretty happy with it. don't think it needed more since everything else is in the next chapter (which has been started and I've actually written down what I want from it lol) 
> 
> anyway, I know this updates slowly, so thank you for being patient!! I really want to continue sharing it because I love it, I really do. and now I'm out of the realm of mostly repeating the show, I feel like it can blossom into what I always wanted it to be! there's more to it, and I hope you'll still join to find out what happens :)

**Author's Note:**

> what's proofreading? I don't know her. 
> 
> anyway lets see if this updates any faster than the other thing i'm supposed to be finishing.


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